


I Want to Know What Love Is

by JuniorWoofles



Series: Femslash February [9]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Femslash February, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Poetic, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Power Dynamics, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, Season/Series 07, Timeline What Timeline, Weddings, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniorWoofles/pseuds/JuniorWoofles
Summary: 500 word ficlet collection for Femslash February 2018. Multiple pairings.





	1. Winter is Coming: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are episode titles in chronological order. I care about that kind of thing, clearly. Work title is from the Foreigner song because that's what I was listening to when I was posting this.

“My love, come, come now, the time is right. It is our time now and I shall steal you away. I shall take you out of the prison cage you have been forced into. I come now at the midnight hour to open up your cage and set you free, and in doing so I will set us both free. Oh, my love, hear me. It is time. I am ready? Are you ready, sweet love?”

“My love, I come now, I come to you. How brave you are to risk breaking me out of this hell, to take me with you back home to your paradise. How heavy my heart felt before it knew you. How stupid and young and naive it was to think that I was the princess in a tale ready for the dashing prince to rescue me and marry me. I know now that I never needed rescued until I met my prince and from the moment I needed someone to break me out of his grasp before it was too late. Oh love, you came to me and I knew that when you did that you were the true hero I was waiting for. It was you all along and I had been too foolish to know it before I met you. I thought I was living one story but really it was a princess from far away I waited for. Oh rescue me now, my love, and take me away with you to the paradise shores of freedom where we can be together.”

“My love, my darling, my beautiful, brave girl, no longer shall I see you cry tears of sorrow. No longer shall you live in daily heartbreak with the memories of the hardships and grief that have pursued you painted into the very fabric of the tapestries and the very foundations of these walls. I shall take you to fresh air and freedom, where the castle walls shall be a comfort and not a confinement. Where you shall walk amongst the roses and find your home in the gardens. I’ll take you far away from battlements and pain and suffering. I shall take you to peace. My love, are you not ready for peace? I see you suffering so and I want to see what peace looks like on you. Will it look like it did when I kissed you in the garden? When I gave you a rose as a symbol of my love and promised things I now fulfil? Will it manifest in the happiness I plan to bestow on you? My darling, I want you to know peace. Come now and I shall show you what you have forgotten.”

“My love, you honour me. Oh wonderful lady, how you protect and save me as you come to me now. I am ready, I shall come now. I am ready to leave this place now and to go with you to the happy ending you promise me. Yes, I believe in it again. I believe that you will take me there and I love you for it. I love you and I come now. I see you, beautiful hero, rescuing me from the captives I now escape from. My love, my love, I come to you now.”


	2. The Wolf and the Lion: Myrcella Baratheon/Sansa Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon verse, pre-relationship friendship focused,

It started off simply, as most things that concern the heart actually tend to do, despite what all the tales and legends may say. It started with a young girl who had lived a sheltered life up in the North thinking she could have a perfect fairytale wedding with a prince that was pure of heart and golden of head. It began with the young Northerner moving down to the warmth of the South and becoming acquainted with all the joys and life of the capital. It commenced with the red head meeting all of the ladies of the court and spending her days surrounded by new people, sewing and stitching and learning new ways to do up her hair. It happened slowly, the initiation the Northern girl had into becoming a fully fledged Southern lady. It occured all of a sudden, the fair haired Southern princess becoming her guide, her friend, her confidant. The golden haired girl was quiet and beautiful and loyal and showed the stranger around the halls that were and so confusing to the her and yet so familiar to her own self. She would take her by the hand and lead her down the secret passages she discovered as a child and they would swap stories of childhoods that they were only just about to say farewell to. Then there was the long hours they would spend in decadent bedchambers, showing the other the hairstyles of the land they were from and teaching the other how to weave her hair in the way that they would need to do in order to blend in with the land from far away. Soon the walks moved from within the castle tenaments to beyond the walls, to the gardens around it. There was roses plucked and tucked behind curls of flaxen gold and necklaces gifted in return. Soon the two were an inseparable fixture in the other’s life and every waking moment was not enough time to spend in the other’s company. That begun the nights when they would steal away in their nightgowns, grasping candles and pillows, and running to the room of the other and curling up in the same bed, hands loosely holding on to the other as they slept soundly together before the sun would wake them gently and cause one to return to her own room with a parting kiss on the forehead and a peal of giggles. It started off simply enough, a new face in a crowd of many, but given time and care, they grew to have a deep love for the other. They told themselves that the other was like the sister they always wanted but never had, but that was just what they told themselves. The love they had for each other was different than the love they might have for a sister. It was a deeper love than that, a more intimate and improbable and ruinous love than that, even if they didn’t yet know it was.


	3. A Golden Crown: Cersei Lannister/Margaery Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Referenced sexual manipulation, age difference, power dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting the rating up a little for this one

She’s a young thing, this new toy you have. She’s supple and full of breast and she smiles that coy smile at you, a throwaway gesture aimed in your direction behind a delicate shoulder framed by a glossy curtain of thick mahogany. This new plaything you have is a languid kitten that makes play she’s a tiger. She may pretend to have her claws out, ready to pounce and tear it all down at a moment’s notice, but she’s as a easy to control as the runt of the litter. All you have to do in return is get your claws into her in exactly the right place and she’s as placid and amenable as anything. All you have to do is sink your teeth into her creamy little neck and she’s weak and willing, the perfect little servant. She mewls like a good little thing as well, little moans at every touch that stirs her up in that most delectable way. She’s a precious thing, this new treat you have for yourself. You may just keep this one, and let her make you more powerful with everyday. It wouldn’t take much, just having the knowledge that you managed to tame the so-called tiger would be enough but then why would you deny yourself of the gift that is her young and oh so willing body? She may be the one that was foretold to be your doom, but there are better ways of stopping the inevitable; like keeping her.

She’s older than your usual past times are, this new hobby you have. She’s a right powerful beast, not afraid of trying to get more power and position by any means possible. She knows what her assets are and how to use them to get what she truly wants. Really, you’re not as different from her as she may wish that you were. But still you thought she may be more of a challenge than she’d been. It had been too easy to put your plan into place. All you had to do was play the part of the nice little kitten who wants to be looked after by a strong lioness and soon you’ll have the lioness eating right out of your hand. She’s a crafty beast, so strong and regal, a true Queen. But this is just a Queen who wants more power, so you give it to her. You give her power in your kisses, and your body, and your womanhood. You give her power through your touches, and your kisses and through those grovelling words she eats right up. You give her more power so it’s all the more delicious when you flip the switch. It’s a longer game you’re playing this time, and a harder one but it’s not like it’s not an agreeable or delicious game this time. It’s a sweet and sensual gift of a game and you’re going to play it for all you’re worth until the victor comes out on top.


	4. You Win or You Lose: Sansa Stark/Shae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon compliant, kind of ambiguous relationship

There’s this girl. She’s as new as you are and, like you, she doesn’t belong here. She lives within the same walls as people who openly despise her, people who want to use her for their own gain, to abuse her position of power within the North to advance the cause of the South. She’s in a dangerous home, this girl. She’s too young for all the pain and suffering you’re scared she will be subjected to. She doesn’t deserve this. She’s a naive little thing: still believing in princes and princesses and happily ever afters. She doesn’t know the true horror of the world yet but she’s learning in the worst way imaginable. Sometimes you want to reverse the clocks and steal her away before all of this started. But then you think you might not like the spoilt, little girl she was before her heart was hardened by grief and hatred. All you can do for this girl is be there for her now and keep her safe the best that you can.

So you watch this girl. You clean her room and take care of her, brush out her hair and make sure that she continues to eat. You can’t let this girl, your charge, _your girl_ , waste herself away like this. You can help her get through this. You must. So you do.

There’s this girl. She’s small within the walls that threaten to squish her but you try to hold them up so they don’t crash down on her. You try and bar her door at night to keep the lions from getting to her. You keep your knife at hand and stay close to her side in case you need to use it to protect her more than you need it to protect yourself. You’d do anything to wrap this girl in linens and smuggle her out of these walls and send her back on her way up North but it’s outwith your power to do so. All you can do is make sure that she survives within the walls she’s trapped in so that when the day comes when she can be rescued arrived that’s alive and ready for it. It’s important to you that she lives. And not just that she lives, that she conquers. Maybe you’re fed up of seeing these people conquer whoever they want however they want and you want to relive and reclaim your freedom through her. Or maybe you care enough about this girl for her future to have an impact. Maybe you wouldn’t bear it if something were to happen to this girl. If something were to happen to this girl, your girl, you don’t quite know how you would bear it. You’d let the walls crush down on you and with your knife protecting whatever remains you’d make a stand for the sake of her crushed spirit.

There’s this girl. She doesn’t belong here, and neither do you. But maybe, you belong with her, and you’re okay with that.


	5. Fire and Blood: Daenerys Targaryen/Melisandre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future fic, hero worship

Melisandre walks across the remains of the battle. The embers are glowing, burning away beside the fallen bodies. She picks her feet across the corpses; prayers running through her mind but not passing her lips. The Lord of Light has decided the course of each of their fates. He decided they would not survive past this skirmish. He welcomed their sacrifice in the name of his chosen one.

And there she was. Across the battlefield she could be seen burning as fiercely just like the beasts she called her children: the great dragon herself. She was the bright beacon of light in this cruel, cursed world and just as she had lit the world on fire and burned away all in her path she would light the way for a brighter world. Her reign would be the beginning of a new regime, a new order that would set the world to rights, just as the Lord of Light would want it to be. She was glorious, even surrounded by all of the death and bloodshed as would be found on the battlefields of a terrible assault. It had been such an horrendous show of force, an honourable show of strength and a harrowing show of the vitality of the human will and it made the win all the greater, all the more precious. The hardships suffered always made for purer endings.

Melisandre continues to pick her way across the fallen, not stopping in her mission to get to the crown. She does not run, she does not need to, for she knew that she would not want to forget this moment - the moment when she could approach her Lord’s champion and finally meet the new queen. She is tempted to quicken her pace only once, when the whites of her Queen’s eyes became visible to Melisandre, but she ignores the temptation with the bodies littered around her feet a reminder that the end goal was worth waiting for. When she is within a few feet of the new Queen, Melisandre stops walking and bows low. There are praises and well-wishes of a sort forming on her lips but before she can get them out she lifts her eyes and the words sound hollow and ring false in her ears and they curl up and die in her throat. Instead of words she rises, never breaking eye contact with those captivating violet irises, until she is at full height and standing eye level with the new Queen. Her blonde hair is tinged pink at the ends with blood and her dress is torn and burnt away. There are scorch marks over her face and arms and her mouth says ‘What is done is done’ as her eyes show the relief she truly feels. Melisandre has waited many years to meet this champion of her Lord, to see the Princess of Fire burn. Up close she can see that she isn’t just burning, she’s a raging fire that’s swallowing Melisandre up whole.


	6. The North Remembers: Jeyne Poole/Sansa Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions, kind of show compliant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not read enough of the books to know much about Jeyne's character but imagine that she survived in show canon and was there when Sansa returned to Winterfell (but none of the Ramsay shit ever happened?)

Sansa blinked as she stared up at the walls of Winterfell. It was her home. _Home._ She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had been there. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had been any place that she could even have remotely have tried to call home. Then she realised that she never had been anywhere that was home; not since she left. Winterfell was her home, her only home, and now she was back where she belonged. She felt the lump in her throat grow at the sentimentality of it all but reminded herself that she had to show face. She was the heir of Winterfell as much as she was the child of it and although she felt infinitely more like a child than a heiress as she gazed up at the strong tenements of what she had called her childhood cage she knew that she had to be a stronghold to the people, just like the walls were now. She could not crumble under the emotions of years of suffering leaving her body like a little dove escaping her cage and soaring into the free air at last. She lead her horse through the front gates and past all of the people that had arrived to welcome her. She smiled at them, as warmly as she was able to under the strain of professionalism; all those people that had watched her grown up and had stayed to watch her return home. They helped her down from her horse and held her tight to their breasts in their motherly way of welcoming a child home from war: full of relief, and joy and love. The walls too seemed to be hugging her tight and crying motherly tears down onto her until Sansa felt that she might explode under the strain of the emotion that was flowing everywhere. Still she kept her smile tight to keep the tears from spilling over and nodded and greeted everyone with enough warmth in her voice to make up for her features.

She was allowed to walk through the rest of the courtyard without the crowd following and continued on her path through the corridors that she knew from memory, walking slow to let all of the old memories wash over her in an attempt to make them replace the most recent ones that she didn’t want to think of ever again. She went to her room and bid Brienne goodnight and went into her old room gratefully, if only for the first night. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was in and startled the hidden other occupant who had been sitting on the bed.

“It _is_ you!” the other woman gasped as she took in Sansa’s appearance.

Sansa saw who had been waiting for her and the tears finally spilled over and fell down her cheeks in fat rivets. In front of her was Jeyne Poole, her closest friend that she had ever had in her life. “How can it be you?” she asked tearfully.

“We all had to come home sometime,” Jeyne replied before wiping away her own tears that were collecting under her chin.

“Oh, Jeyne,” Sansa cried as she threw herself at her best friend. She wrapped her arms tight around Jeyne’s neck and felt Jeyne’s arms pull her in at her waist. She knew her tears would be staining the shoulder of Jeyne’s dress but she couldn't care less, especially not as Jeyne pressed a tight kiss to Sansa’s crown. She unwrapped her arms from around Sansa’s waist and took Sansa’s head in her hands and placed gentle kisses all over it until Sansa regained some of her composure. “Come now, you’re home. You’re home.”

In the heart of Winterfell, in her childhood bedroom with Jeyne’s arms keeping her upright as the world came crashing to rightness all of once and all too fast all Sansa could do was agree that she was home. She was finally, and completely, _home._


	7. Garden of Bones: Arya Stark/Ygritte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship, happy,

“Ygritte, where are we going?” the younger girl complains, her smaller legs stretching out as she tries to keep pace with the longer legs striding off in front of her.

“You’ll soon see, little wolf,” is all the answer she gets in reply; not that it is much of an answer. Sometimes Arya really tires of Ygritte’s cryptic ways but then she remembers how much she likes mysteries and having something new slowly revealed to her as she tries to piece together what it is and how it could affect her.

This time it started with Ygritte demanding Arya get ready and follow her as soon as possible and the two of them packing and leaving before the sun had fully woken everyone up. Then they began to walk. At first they walked in silence as Ygritte ate whatever rations she had taken with her and Arya adjusted to the bright streaming sunshine glittering across the white fields. It was her new stomping grounds, the Land Beyond the Wall, and she had the best tour guide for it; even if said tour guide tended to wake her up at unreasonable times with no prior warning. They had kept walking for a couple of hours and although Arya wasn’t tired by the activity she couldn’t help but lag behind sometimes, especially when her girlfriend kept powering ahead at such speeds. Sometimes she really resented her littler legs but she knew better than to complain in front of Ygritte. It wasn’t really Arya’s nature anyway and she knew Ygritte would find some way to make it into a running joke and Arya didn’t need that in her life. She liked the dynamic of their relationship as it stood and didn’t want to give Ygritte ammunition against her like that.

As the silver sun bounced rainbow rays against the plains of the wilderness from what must have been the top of the heavens, Ygritte turned to Arya and took Arya’s hand in her own. “We’re here.”

Arya looked around, not seeing anything different from the same landscape that she’d been looking at for the past twenty minutes but simply allowed Ygritte to lead her down a hill that she hadn’t even noticed. Ygritte flew down the hill with Arya flying behind her, laughter streaming behind her until she came to an abrupt stop and found herself in a secluded den.

In the den there was very little light, the sun not reaching into it from this angle. But from what little Arya could make out they seemed to be in some kind of garden: grown wild with the conditions and the centuries. Thick ivy streamed all around the roof of the den and here and there tiny flowers were attempting to break through the snow to bud. There were little pink lips whispering as they struggled to gasp for air and as the wind suddenly flew through the den, Arya fancied she could even hear it.

“Happy name-day, little wolf” they echoed back at her as Ygritte wrapped her arms around Arya’s smaller frame and pressed a kiss onto her cheek.


	8. The Old Gods and the New: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding fic, canon divergence after S1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding mixed between that of the Old Gods and the Faith of the Seven - reflecting their marriages and beliefs in the show. Margaery is older than Loras as she is in show only. Same-sex marriages aren’t illegal, they just don’t exist so lets pretend in equality.   
> Set in some canon divergent storyline where Ned Stark died but then Robb rescued Sansa and everyone was happy?

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” the septon asks of the noblewoman stood waiting.

“Sansa, of the House Stark, comes to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” one brother replies from the bottom of the aisle.

“Margaery, of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden. Who gives her?” another answers from where he stands at the top.

“Robb, of House Stark, heir of Winterfell and her brother by blood.” With this said he begins to walk his sister down the aisle, watched by noblemen and ladies, friends and family, towards where her bride awaits her.

“Lady Sansa, step forward,” the septon asks.

The two eldest Stark children embrace and Robb presses a kiss to his sister’s forehead before he lets go of her arm and allows her to glide forward up to the God’s tree and her bride.

“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of lady and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever," the septon announces to the gathered congregation as the two brides smile at each other as they reach out and clasp their hands together. The septon produces the ribbon and winds it around their hands as he says, "Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Sansa of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." He finishes wrapping the ribbon around their joined hands and in the sight of the Old Gods and the New the septon then announces, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

They turn to each other, tender smiles blossoming from true happiness barely contained as they repeat the words: "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The septon nods encouragingly at them as they finish the vow.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” they say, and then they lean in until their lips connect. They seem to be smiling so much that the kiss is the second thing on their mind after smiling out of the sheer and perfect happiness they are both feeling at that moment. When they lean back again to properly grin at each other the crowd behind them applauds and they turn to face their spectators. Margaery raises their still conjoined hands up for all to see before she leans over and kisses her bride again. There’s a pretty rosy smile on Sansa’s face to match her loose hair and her heart is elated and flies free and happy from the pain she faced months ago. Now all she has is a lifetime of happiness to look forward to with the woman she loves so very dearly.


	9. Dark Wings, Dark Words: Daenerys Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angry break up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is shamelessly stolen from 'Defying Gravity from Wicked

“Gods, I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re happy now. I hope you’re happy that you’ve hurt your cause forever, I hope you think you’re clever!” Margaery hurls at the words at Daenerys, standing angry and hurt at the opposite side of their bedchamber.

“Ha! I hope you’re happy! I hope you’re happy too. I hope you’re proud of how you would grovel in submission, to feed your own ambition!” Dany shouts right back at her, knowing that her girlfriend is as much to blame for the breakdown in their relationship as she is.

“How could you do that?!”

“How could you say that?!”

“How could you?!”

“How dare you?!”

The insults and the anger, the defections and reflections, the jabs and the shouts were being hurled back and forth. All the passion and love they’d once held for each other was now being channeled in the blind emotion of rage as they let go of every bad thought they’d ever held back during their relationship. Like the breaking of a dam it was all coming out in a colossal wave, all the judgement and bitterness, all of those angry, rejected feelings that they had never wanted to voice before. All of the bad thoughts that they thought could be drowned out by love and devotion were being set free now that love was no longer strong enough to keep them at bay.

The bitterness of loss and devastation was as keenly present in the suffocating room as the slowly growing hatred and released anger. There was fierce tears growing in their eyes, but both were too stubborn to let them fall. The tears remained unshed, fought back with bitter determination as they got ready for the next round of harsh words and deep truths. The truth is always hard to hear but never harder than when it comes from someone who you had once loved so deeply. When you confide everything you are to one person, all your fears and dreams and weaknesses, all that you are scared of in the world and about yourself, when you trade all of that with someone who, in a moment when they have nothing left but that sacred part of your trust, decides to sharpen your own secrets into weapons with which to destroy you; now that is the most devastating thing you can hear and they did not hold back from turning each deep fear into the sharpest of blades to thrust into each other’s hearts.

There was not a moment when they thought that their relationship was redeemable. They knew that whatever that had that was happy and good had been slowly slipping away from them in the past few weeks and they both knew that it would be utterly destroyed by the time the breath fuelling their fight was extinguished. At some point each had wondered if they should simply stop and apologise and take the calmer exit route but they were too deep into the fight and it was too late for them to back down from it. So like the passion that had first ignited their relationship, they threw everything at it as it went up in flames.


	10. Kissed By Fire: Sansa Stark/Ygritte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metaphors and happiness only

They were so alike in physicality and yet you would be hard pressed to find two young women who were ever so dissimilar. They were both slender, tall things, with long, willowy limbs and sharp eyes. Most strikingly, they both had hair that had been kissed by fire. In the sunlight, in the starlight, in the candlelight, in the moonlight, their hair glowed and burned. It captivated and entranced. It had captivated one to go to the other. It had entranced the other to seek after the first.

But beneath the mane of burnt strawberry that was so similar on them both, were two hearts so different and set apart. There was the Lady, the one born and raised within the walls of a fortress who had been taught to thread and stitch and found a proficiency for dressmaking. She expected to be married off to unite her great house with another. There was the daughter of Winterfell, the proud castle of the North that had kept her safe from both the South and from whatever lay North of the Wall.

That was where the other resided. She was a child of the wild, not brought up on rules and expectations and customs. She made her own way, killing and laying waste and taking what she wanted. That was the rules they taught her as she grew up. She didn’t expect to ever marry and knew if she ever would that it wouldn’t be an arrangement made by her family to secure ties with another tribe. She was her own person, a free spirit, an uncontrollable spitfire dancing among the coldest Northern winds.

But there was something intriguing about a person who looks so alike you that if you dressed and acted as them you could pass for their shadow. But why stand in the shadow of something different when you could face them as your own person marked with your own traits? You could teach them what freedom tastes like: how it tasted like fresh air, the sting of the cold, the bite of forbidden kisses, and the fear of grasping at something that could slip away forever if you let it go. And you could find out what it meant to be a lady: to be courted, and sweet talked, to walk with your hand held safely in someone else’s and sleep in a bed made not just of furs but of pillars and posts as well.

They were two fires: one fierce wildfire burning through thick logs in an open campfire, and the other a dignified candle, strong and tall, whispering secrets to the shadows above her head. Fire can fight fire: can extinguish it and put it out so that it withers and dies and is no more. But fire can also feed fire and make it fiercer and bring it to life in a fast wave of oxygen and heat.

These two fires were so different at their hearts but when they came together they only made the other stronger, only made the other feel more alive. They taught each other what freedom and love was and how although they may be so different, in their hearts they both did just want to be loved. They found each other and they clung to each other, the heat of the other keeping them both warm and safe at night and lighting their way to the better days still to come.


	11. Two Swords: Arya Stark/Brienne of Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really canon divergent, happy, established relationship, age difference

The sword came clattering down with a harsh thud but it came clattering down on the ground only, its target having skipped past it the second before the blow fell. There was a sharp movement through the air, retaliation whizzing through the air and cutting through it with a twang to land mere centimetres away from the the leg that had just stepped back and away from its biting sting.

And on and on it went, one step forward, one step back, a side step here, a dodge there. Up cut, down stroke, a little flair and finesse. A skip and a slide, a lung and a stab. A jab and a cut and a clatter and a whirl. It was one magnificent sword full of history and purpose against a little thing that was determined to prove worthy of its smaller stature.

There was a missed opportunity, an advantage that was taken, a dodge, a skip and a leap and two light taps of the knees and the smaller fighter was looking down at her opponent with a victorious smile on her face.

“Do you yield?” she asked.

“I yield, my Lady.”

“Good,” the younger said and her smile spoke volumes. She would feel the weariness in her bones later perhaps, and perhaps it would be much later indeed. But for now she was young and had someone to train with her and keep her quick and sharp and ready. She reached out her hand and helped the other woman to her feet. She smirked at her again, revelling in the success of the day before her face softened and her attention turned towards the cuts she had inflicted.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked, crouching to eye level of the hits and inspecting them to see how deep they were. She hadn’t meant to cut too deep, only meant to flick them quickly in order to win but she wanted to make sure she had done that and that alone.

“They’re fine. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse done to me by you, my Lady, but you have not hurt me,” the elder said, cupping her hand under the other’s chin and guiding it up so she could look into the eyes of the littler one. She had to reassure her that there was no damage, no long term pain. She had to reassure her there was no pain at all in the ending of the spar. She used her strength to guide Arya back to her full height and smiled warmly at her.

“You did good today.”

“So did you, my Lady.”

“Same time tomorrow.?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“I look forward to beating you again then,” she smiled a smile of happiness that was tinged with danger and the hint of excitement and Brienne returned the smile in her own way. There was no one who had quite mastered how to show how happily dangerous one was in a smile as Arya Stark.

The smile died away and a loving one took its place as Arya threw Needle to the ground and jumped up at Brienne, knowing that she would catch her no matter what. As expected, Brienne’s arms immediately came around her and held her close so that Arya was nestled in Brienne’s arms with Oathkeeper resting against her back. “I win,” she whispered against Brienne’s lips before she closed the miniscule gap to claim her true victory.


	12. The Lion and the Rose: Myrcella Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship, fluff, canon complaint

“Oh hello, my sweet darling,” Margaery greeted, entering the room and walking over to fold the younger girl into her arms, “How has your day been?”

“It has been quite well, thank you for asking, my Lady. How has yours been?”

“Simply marvellous,” the Tyrell replied, kissing the brow of her blonde love, “I walked with Grandmother in the gardens and they’re really coming along well. I shall take you around them tomorrow, I am sure you will appreciate the beauty and romance of the rose bushes, though they do not compare to your own beauty. My grandmother also enquired after you and would very much like for you to join her in the garden in the afternoon tomorrow, if you are available then to fulfil her request.”

“I would love to accept her invitation.”

“Thank you, my dearest Lady, I hope we shall have a lovely afternoon tomorrow now the arrangement is all agreed upon.”

“I hope we shall have a lovely evening tonight as well,” Myrcella replied, smiling at the older girl.

“Oh you are so sweet. Any evening that I spend with you is a lovely evening and an evening well spent.”

“I would agree with you there. Your coming to Kings Landing has greatly increased my happiness.”

“And mine as well, of course. It is not the same as being at home and maybe one day I shall take you there but for now I have you and your pretty little smiles to elevate any pain I may have about not being in my home.”

“I welcome your stay in my home and hope that you will always find me a suitable replacement for the home you miss.”

“Oh, darling,” Margaery kissed her young love quickly, “You are so sweet as to say that. I have found a new home in your arms that is much sweeter than the palace arms that I was promised and I am so grateful for it. You don’t know how much you have given me by welcoming me into your arms like this, dear thing, and I appreciate it greatly.”

They both basked in the moment for a while before Myrcella breached the calm silence they had created. “My lady?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“If I may be so bold may I say something to you that I have feared to tell you before now?”

“Yes, darling. What is it? Are you quite alright?”

“I think so but I have never felt like this before so I cannot say for sure whether it is all right or not and I hope whatever response you have to this may let me know.”

“Do go on?”

“My lady, I think I love you,” Myrcella declared, young and bold and full of passion beyond her years.

“Oh darling, if that is the case then all I have to say in response is that I love you as well.”

They smiled at each other before their lips gently connected in a sweet kiss, tentative and hopeful and loving.


	13. Breaker of Chains: Daenerys Targaryen/Missandei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, established relationship, canon compliant

The sun was streaming through the open curtain flaps of the tent. It was a bright, warm sunshine but to Missandei is was nothing compared to the soft glow of Dany’s morning smile as she turned to her and kissed her softly. Missandei moved to cup Dany’s cheek and returned the smile in the kiss and felt the loving warmth that always accompanied one of those kisses bloom inside her after they had separated and their foreheads were pressed together.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Missandei said, letting the soft sentiment in the words fill up the entire tent and wrap Daenerys in a loving embrace to match the way they were currently entwined.

“Good morning, love,” Daenerys returned, lifting Missandei’s hand off of her cheek and kissing the palm of it before entwining Missandei’s fingers within her own and holding the conjoined hand close to her breast, right beneath her beating heart. Missandei could just about make out Dany’s heartbeat through the press of her fingertips against Dany’s ribs and smiled even more to feel how strong and alive and _real_ Daenerys was to her. Daenerys who to many people was a myth, a tale of legend spun out of whispers and half-sightings and the hope of people so used to being squashed under tyranny. Beautiful Daenerys who to many was an object, a thing of desire to be coveted or won; who to these people was often seen by her face value beauty only and not for the beauty that lay within her compassionate heart that Missandei had the privilege to feel as it beat within the breast of the Dragon Queen. Daenerys who to many people flew high above them and was revered like a goddess for her ability to tame dragons and walk out of flames unscathed; who wasn’t real, wasn’t still a young woman who got scared and had doubts and was unsure of her actions in private but could show nothing but pure conviction to the people when she decreed her will. They didn’t see the Daenerys that Missandei saw, and they never would.

They were not afforded the privilege of seeing her like this: open and vulnerable and young and happy and free. Missandei saw the truth of Daenerys’s years when she laughed at something Missandei had said to her as they lay in bed together, ready to fall asleep. Missandei saw the goodness in Daenerys when Daenerys cupped her head in her hands and kissed her softly. Missandei saw how _real_ and human and perfect Daenerys was, because she, and she alone, was allowed this utmost honour. Missandei was honoured beyond titles or praise or riches, she was honoured with love and it was worth more to her than any title, riches or praise could ever be worth to her.

She had fallen into slavery and to her those things were tainted with the knowledge of how they were often won and used and abused. She knew of rich men thinking they owned whatever they liked and not caring if they things they owned happened to be people, suffering and in pain. She knew of men with titles demanded things and simply getting them because they had power that could not be refused.

But she also knew of a woman with a great deal many titles who did not ask for riches beyond love and who did not want praise beyond that which she may earn. She did not seek to hurt the people that the rich men saw as lesser. She liberated them and gave them freedom and the chance to follow who they wanted to follow and do what they wanted to do. Missandei saw Daenerys storm in, all spirit and compassion and fire, and give her the chance to be with someone who would treat her right and give her the freedom she desired. In that freedom Missandei found love and home and things she never thought she’d find. Sometimes she couldn’t quite believe this was what her life had come to. But then she felt Dany’s heartbeat under her fingertips and it reminded that this was hers and it was real.


	14. Oathkeeper: Catelyn Tully Stark/Lyanna Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gender roles/Societal expectations, not actually unrequited love, falling in love, 
> 
> Don't ask me how this fits into canon or what the canon is here just roll with it

She was always promised to a Stark.

It was arranged to be the eldest and strongest and bravest and when he fell the next was moved into position to take his place. She was to be married to a Stark, and it did not matter which one it was to be. It was any Stark, whoever was there to take her. She would be married to a Stark so that she could secure a good relationship between the Houses of Tully and Stark. She was told that she would be married off and that she would have to move up North where it would be much colder and much stranger. She would be married off and sent to a foreign land to live with strangers that she would now have to call family. That was the way Catelyn Tully understood the world to be. That was the way she was told things had to be. She was a good daughter, a dutiful daughter and she would do as she was told and marry whoever they told her to and she would do it without voicing her fears or concerns or doubts or any dark thoughts that overtook her head at a moment of weakness. She was a brave daughter, a Tully daughter and she would do this duty.

She was to be a Stark and she was to marry a Stark and have Stark children that would be heirs of Winterfell. That was her duty.

It was only hoped at, but by no means guaranteed that she would fall in love with a Stark. Arranged marriages were like that - no guarantees of anything turning into a happy ending and marital bliss.

It was hoped at that she would fall in love with her Stark husband but that was a secondary concern. She cared more for how he would treat her and care for her and the children she would bear him. If love did not come as part of that then she would take respect and courtesy.

She was surprised to find that she fell in love with a Stark and fell both hard and unexpectedly. The Stark in question was a brilliant figure, strong and fierce, who smiled at her with warmth and kissed her hand and made her feel special, and how happened to not be the Stark she was promised to. Lyanna Stark was beauty and brilliance and good and she smiled at Catelyn like she had known her for years. Like somehow Lyanna had a mirror to Catelyn’s soul and had seen that and was pleased with what she saw. They conversed like their were no barriers between each other: stories, no matter how embarrassing or nearly forgotten, or trivial or stupid, were told, followed by fears, doubts and dreams. Catelyn confided everything in heart to Lyanna except for one detail.

She was always prepared to do her duty regardless of what may happen but she hadn’t thought to factor this in. She didn’t think she would fall for the Stark that she was not promised to.

When the time came, she did her duty. She married the Stark that they had promised for her and she kissed him and lay with him and bore him a son like was expected of her. Yet he would smile knowingly at her when she conversed with his sister and kissed her brow more than her lips sometimes and gave her as much space to be her own person. In turn, the Stark sister told her confessions in the dark, prayed with her daily, holding hands together under the Weirwood, and kissed her on the side of her mouth with a undecipherable smile every time they had to part.

She was married to a Stark and did her duty by him but her heart belonged to another.

She was always promised to a Stark.


	15. The Laws of Gods and Men: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon, unspecified future fic, canon divergence in that they're all alive and together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life got crazy for a minute but I'm hoping to get back on track in a few days at most

It was the end of everything. The war had reigned, hard and fierce and terrible. The bodies had fallen all around them and in the end there was nothing left to do but step over their corpses and lay a trail of lilies behind them. They could mourn and they could grieve but they had to move on. They had to rebuild and go forward. They had to create a new world.

The queen took the throne, as they had hoped and prayed that she would. She came across the sea, travelled from the other side of the world, to finally touch down on her homeland. She waged war and liberated slaves and told the oppressed of a better way of life. She was beauty and fire, burning and slaying the opponents who would stand in the way of the goal she had been so fixated upon. She took the throne, took her goal, as she always wanted to.

The queen took the throne, as she had wanted to. She had tried to get at it so many times before, marriage after marriage, working her way through men with the correct birthright but not the position, the cruel tyrants who were better off dead, and the sweet one who was too kind to be a King. She had wanted to be the queen and had tried to keep it from slipping out of her grasp, again and again and again. She took the throne, took her goal, as she always wanted to.

The princess took the throne, as she had wanted to, once. Only once and very briefly did she think the throne was within her grasp. But now she had access to it and was content with it. She had become heir of Winterfell, had become accustomed to power that was due to birthright not marriage and was content with it. She could listen to the people and serve them and did just that. She took the throne, her never goal, as she only now wanted to.

The were bonded in marriage, bonded in love, and they ruled with each other by their side. Daenerys ruled the Seven Kingdoms with Margaery as her queen, the goals they had both dearly wanted, and the execution they could never have imagined working out.

Margaery loved her queen, her wife, and was dutiful to her and the position their marriage gave to her. She could be with the people, she could rule them, be just and kind and have them tied round her finger with a coy smile and come home to a ruler and a spouse who loved her for her and treated her well.

Daenerys loved her queen and was grateful to her for the armies and aid that she had provided for her win. She welcomed her council and her knowledge of the people of King’s Landing that had helped win them over. She didn’t know how she would have won them over, or so fast if Margaery had not been by her side to convince the people that her intentions were true.

Most importantly, they both loved their Northern bride who took turns residing up North and with them down South. Sansa had her own duties and role to fulfil but her connections to the crown kept her safe in her position and helped protect the people of the North. Now when she returned to King’s Landing her heart was not so heavy and she could look forward to her visits there and the people she would be reunited with. She wasn’t trapped in the Red Keep but was free to live in Winterfell and return to her loves whenever she was able to.

They had won the war and now it was time to forge a new world. It was a new world, with new rules and new orders, but the laws of gods and men could not defy them from keeping their hearts happy; both from the success of achieving the goals and peace they had so long wanted, but also for the love they had found through this. 


	16. The Wars to Come: Sansa Stark/Brienne of Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 7 setting, Arya being a good sister/person (but aware of Littlefinger so she's vague about it), pre-relationship, hurt/comfort.  
> Accidentally longer than intended

Sansa was pacing again. Brienne noticed she did that sometimes, mainly late at night when everyone else was in bed and there was no one around to notice her activities. Sansa always had her duty and position to consider and if her people realised how much fear and doubt and worry occupied her brain then she could easily lose control of them. Sansa was working so hard to get them to follow her, all those Northern lords who nearly hadn’t accepted her in the first place because she was a woman. She didn’t need to give them a reason to turn away from her now, not when now she needed things to stay as normal as possible so she could work through all her concerns.

She walked the same path every night. Sansa would start from her bed chambers at roughly the same time every night; usually the point when she gave up on sleeping and decided to take a walk to calm her mind before attempting to go to sleep again. From her chambers she would walk without a candle, knowing the pathway so well from her childhood and now again from her nightly activities, along the corridor and down to the crypts so that she could be with her father. Brienne had heard Sansa whisper to her father’s bust sometimes but she always stood far enough back that she never heard anything intelligible. Brienne wanted to make sure that Sansa was safe but she would never intrude on a deeply personal matter to do so. Sansa was safe down there anyway, and even if she wasn’t, Brienne also held back in the shadows just in case someone who wished Sansa harm else had realised her nocturnal pattern.

Brienne knew that Sansa was hurt and conflicted but she didn’t know how to make it go away. She could protect her physically against anyone who may wish to harm her but Brienne didn’t know how to protect Sansa from the night terrors she experienced. Until Sansa decided to open up and talk to her there was no way for Brienne to know exactly what troubled Sansa. Sansa, now more than ever it seemed, had become accustomed to shutting herself up so that she was safer. She was slowly learning to open up and trust more people again but this was a woman who had been betrayed over and over and a woman who had watched as that betrayal had caused members of her family to die right in front of her eyes. She had locked up her heart to protect it but she was learning to open it up again.

“You should go to her,” a voice whispered in the darkness. If Brienne was a less experienced fighter she may have been shocked more but she started only a little before she turned to the person who had joined her in the shadows.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, you should go to talk to her,” Arya Stark said, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Why would you not go to talk to her yourself? Sansa is your sister after all.”

“I get the feeling she doesn’t want to talk to me right now. Maybe in the morning I’ll talk to her but I don’t want her to think I’m spying on her in the middle of the night.”

“But surely she’ll understand your concern for her?”

“Maybe, and I might find out soon. But you are also spying on her when she cannot sleep and even at night when you need your own rest you follow her to ensure her protection. Go to her. She might even talk to you.”

“Arya, I cannot.”

“Suit yourself. But we both know that you’re going to regret not protecting her if you can help her. So stop wasting time and go comfort my sister,” and with that, and one last half-hidden smile, Arya Stark melted back into the shadows and left Brienne alone to make her decision.

Brienne knew that she shouldn’t have followed Sansa, should have given her the space that she so clearly desired but Arya’s words had struck a cord so she walked forward slowly and made sure her voice was clear when she called out.

“Brienne? Is that you?” Sansa was on guard, but not defensive. She almost sounded relieved to be found.

“Yes, my lady. I wanted to make sure that you are alright.”

“Mmm, you needn’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’re not.”

Sansa looked shrewdly up at Brienne, lit only by the faint strands of moonlight. She searched Brienne’s face and saw only the deep concern and worry Brienne had for her own health and she let out a deep sigh and collapsed into Brienne’s arms. “You’re right. I’m not okay. I’m not.”

Brienne felt how lost and helpless Sansa must have been feeling and vowed to hold her tight until that feeling went away.


	17. The Gift: Yara/Greyjoy Daenerys Targaryean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon first meeting

Down on her knees, bowing before the woman she had travelled so far to come and see, to beg for help, to ask for a compromise, Yara looked up through her eyelashes at the most beautiful, regal woman she had ever seen in her life. Yara was used to the people of the Iron Islands, all those wrapped up people who knew who she was and what she stood for. She was used to the whores who sat so prettily on her lap and the way they would bite and nip at her lips and make her feel so warm and sated. She knew how to pay them, how to use them, how to act like the strong warrior she needed to be to be respected and followed in the Iron Islands.

But she wasn’t in the Iron Islands anymore. She was all the way across the sea staring up at a myth of beauty who had the power and strength to right the wrong that Yara had been served. She could unite with this Queen to get her own throne back and that was the kind of sweet deal Yara knew how to swing. She knew Euron would be ready to make similar deals, if not with Daenerys then with Cersei, and those deals would not nearly be as beneficial to the other party. Yara knew she only had a small fleet but she was loyal and brave and would do what it took to get her throne back.

A throne for a throne was a fair deal after all. That was what she was here for. That was what she needed.

That wasn’t to say that she wouldn’t pursue what she wanted. She needed the help and aid but she wanted this foreign Queen as much as she had ever wanted any other person in ay kingdom. There was something alluring and unusual about her: the way she sat; the way she held herself in the throne she had; the way she held her chin up above them even as she addressed them with cool regard; the way she softened when she realised Theon wasn’t a bargaining chip and that there wasn’t to be an unwarranted marriage proposal to secure ties; the way her hair framed her face; the way she looked like every picture of a princess Yara had ever formed in her head as a girl dreaming of such fantastical things. She was the epitome of grace and strength, proud and strong, sure of will and mind. She was the perfect target for Yara’s heart to latch on to and it was so easy to simple refute a claim with flirting. Flirting was second nature to Yara, as much as sailing or fighting ever had been, and even though the stakes were so high right now and there wasn’t room for this option to go South, the Queen on her throne was too irresistible to not flirt with. She replied with a smirk and Yara felt her heart sink into the floor of her stomach in a deep, worshipful bow. The trade was the reason, the need, but the want was the wink she wanted to send and the gentle flirting she couldn’t help but do.


	18. The Dance of Dragons: Arya Stark/Daenerys Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon verse I guess, established relationship, happy

There was something completely freeing to be found in the exhilaration that came from flying, Arya found. She had done so many other things: she had killed and nearly been killed, had ran and danced and swam and trekked halfway across the world and back again, but there was something so completely singular about riding on the back of a dragon that didn’t compare to anything she had ever done previously or would ever do again. She didn’t have the words to describe it, but words had never really been her forte. Poetic turns of phrase had always been more of Sansa’s thing, always the romantic her sister was. Arya, on the other hand, had never bothered with any of the more ladylike practices in the world. She could make art with her Needle as she swung it through the air, arching and whirling and cutting and painting trails of red. She could dance gracefully in battle as she twirled and ducked and fought. She could be dignified in the way she held herself as she learnt what it meant to be Arya Stark again, and not No One. She could find the beauty in her own way but she never knew how to describe it: never knew how to express to someone else what went through her mind in moments like this.

But when she was with Daenerys trivial things like trying to find the right words never mattered anymore. There was no one who knew what flying so free and uninhibited felt like and she never had to worry about trying to tell Dany this: Dany already knew. She would be flying alongside her, or sitting in front of her, or behind her, and they’d lock eyes and smile and that was all the communicating they needed to do on the matter. They didn’t need to string together sentences or piece together phrases that would ultimately fall short on summing up the experience of it. So they never bothered with words.

Instead they exchanged shouts of glee, yelps of joy and cheers of excitement that were lost to the wind and heard only by each other. Instead they traded smiles, pure and happy and young and free and weightless; such knowing smiles that matched each other’s. Instead they traded kisses, fuelled by adrenaline and excitement and entirely too happy and fierce.

Dany gave Arya something new, something she didn’t think she would ever find again. Dany gave her a chance to be young and free and the opportunity to try and recapture lost youth. Dany gave her excitement and freedom and love.

Arya gave her a companion. Arya gave her someone she could be happy with, someone she could fly with and be herself with. Together they could fly away for a little while and be free of the worries and troubles of the land and just be happy. Together they could escape and find something pure and simple. It was exhilarating, it was enlightening, it was everything, and Arya knew she would go chasing that feeling on and on and on and never let it go.

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos/comments are really appreciated and will encourage me to write more this year, or for this fandom in the future x


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